


Rainbow Lights

by rage_quitter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_quitter/pseuds/rage_quitter
Summary: Hanzo isn't a party kind of guy. Luckily, McCree isn't much into parties, either.





	Rainbow Lights

**Author's Note:**

> happy crisis everyone lets make the yuletide gay

The music was loud and cheerful, the lights were bright and colorful, and the entire room smelled like cookies and coniferous trees. 

Hanzo had a headache.

Overwatch’s first Christmas party was bustling and bright. Everyone was talking, laughing, enjoying food from a dozen different cultures. Many people were dressed charmingly festive in silly sweaters and hats, glancing with excitement at the absolute mountain of gifts under the huge tree. Most of the members of Overwatch had agreed to leave their wrapped presents for everyone else there until Christmas day, though not many of them celebrated the holiday. Still-- it was the season for giving.

Hanzo lurked in the corner of the room with a mug of rum in his hands. He still felt… out of place, here. He had only been with Overwatch a few months, and still felt uncertain glances from some of them. Genji had insisted he come to to the party, but then had abandoned him to sneak Zenyatta closer to the mistletoe Emily and Lena were hogging. 

While it was certainly an ideal holiday party, excluding the fact that every single person attending was armed, Hanzo was looking for an exit. 

It came, unexpected but not unwelcome, in the form of jingling spurs and a wide-brimmed hat. McCree leaned against the wall beside him with a glass of bourbon. “What’s got yer goat, Shimada?” asked the cowboy, his voice low and his dark eyes on the crowd. 

Hanzo sipped his rum. “I am not exactly the partying type. The last party I went to was entirely business and every attendee was yakuza. It was also… twelve years ago, now?”

McCree nodded. “Guessin’ your brother got all the extroversion, huh?”

They watched as Genji, raising his glass in one hand, dipped Zenyatta under the mistletoe. Lena, Hana, Lucio, and Emily all cheered them on.

“That has not changed, it seems.” Hanzo glanced up at McCree. He was wearing a hideous red and gold sweater and wire-rimmed glasses. “Why are you not with everyone else? I would have thought you were more… excited by the festivities. Genji told me you celebrate the holiday.”

McCree shrugged and said, “Yeah, I dunno. It’s nice, but I guess it’s just a bit much for me. Kinda overwhelming. Weird brain garbage and shit, y’know?”

“I understand.”

“Besides, ain’t like they’re missin’ me much.” McCree knocked back the rest of his drink. “And you seemed like you were lookin’ for a window to climb out of. I was thinkin’ about leaving for a bit, myself. Grab a smoke, maybe find a bar or something.”

Hanzo peered into his nearly empty mug a moment. He took a deep breath. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

“Offering, if you’re interested.”

An excited, slightly drunken rendition of “All I Want For Christmas” began to break out among the partygoers.

“I accept.”

McCree grinned and pushed his glasses up a bit. “Finish up that drink. Crime to leave alcohol unfinished.”

Hanzo scoffed. It had cooled enough for him to drink the rest quickly. He set the now empty mug on a table. “If you do not mind, I would like to stop by my room first to get a proper coat. It’s supposed to snow, if it isn’t already.”

“Yeah, sure. Come on.” McCree set his empty glass beside Hanzo’s and skirted along the room. Hanzo followed after him.

McCree found a door that Hanzo had thought was locked. He knit his brow when McCree hissed into the keypad and the door slid open silently.

Behind the door was the dimly lit hall that led back to the bunk rooms. McCree winked at Hanzo and gestured for him to go ahead. The door slid closed behind them and the hall brightened a little bit.

“Athena’s great,” McCree said. “And I still know this place like the back of my hand.”

“Impressive, I will admit,” Hanzo said. “Do you think they will realize we left?”

McCree shrugged. “Probably not for a while, and we’ll be long gone by then. If Genji can take his eyes of Zen long enough.”

Hanzo snorted. “Unlikely, I think. He is quite smitten.”

“Yep. Y’know, I think it’s cute. They’re happy together.”

Hanzo softened. “They are.”

They stopped in front of Hanzo’s room. McCree looked at him expectantly. “I’ll go grab my own jacket, and meet you here in a sec?”

Hanzo nodded.

He hurried, but made sure to dress warmly, grabbing a hat as well and ensuring his bow and arrows were accessible. He zipped his jacket and shook out his nerves. Why did he feel--whatever this was? A little thrill at sneaking out of a party he was not even obligated to attend? Hanzo huffed at himself. He was a hardened criminal, a trained assassin, a man nearly forty who had been raised by the Japanese mafia-- why was he so tickled about this situation? Perhaps just the sheer ridiculousness of it. Nothing to do with McCree, at all, he told himself. 

McCree was waiting for him in the hall, a jacket over his sweater and a scarf looped haphazardly around his neck. He grinned as Hanzo closed the door behind him. “You look warm,” he said.

Hanzo pulled down his hat a bit more. “The haircut was fairly recent. It gets cold.”

“I getcha. Don’t want your ears freezin’ off or nothin’.”

They slipped past the “party room” again, keeping quiet, though it was perhaps not entirely necessary; the music was still fairly loud and the chatter and laughter was still boisterous. McCree held the door to the exit for Hanzo, and they stepped out into the cold.

McCree hissed and pulled his scarf tighter. “Smart move with the jacket, Han. I get it’s December, but yeesh.”

“Not a fan?”

McCree shook his head. “Born and raised in New Mexico; coldest I ever experienced till I was seventeen was probably thirty five in the dead of winter.”

“How about the snow?”

McCree considered. “Snow’s pretty nice, yeah. It’s real pretty. Guess I really only like the cold if it’s snowing.” 

“That is something we can agree on, for certain,” Hanzo said with a small smile.

McCree returned the expression in kind.

They headed to the vehicle bay, which essentially doubled as a garage, because there were a number of civilian vehicles alongside the dropships and military equipment stored inside. McCree whistled cheerfully as he swiped the keys and headed for one of the civilian trucks. Hanzo rolled his eyes; of course McCree would chose a truck. 

“Come on, then, unless you’re wantin’ to walk to town,” McCree teased.

Hanzo scoffed. “Not particularly, no.”

McCree held the door for him with an exaggerated gesture for him to get in. Hanzo shook his head and got in the truck. McCree got in the driver’s side and turned it on. He hummed and flicked through the radio until it began to play old Christmas classics. “This good with you?”

Hanzo nodded. “I am not very picky. And besides-- it is the season.”

McCree smiled.

The drive was spent in companionable quiet. McCree hummed along to most of the songs, and even Hanzo felt his head bob a little. The festive feelings were always infectious. 

They reached the town nearby in a few minutes. Small plastic trees glittered in the windows, and lights twinkled brightly around doorframes. Late-night shoppers bundled in coats and hats and scarves, clutching shopping bag and travel cups from the local cafe. 

McCree found a place to park. “Anywhere you wanna go first, or just wander till somethin’ strikes our fancy?”

“I have nothing in mind,” Hanzo replied. 

“Alright, works for me.”

The two hopped out of the car into the chilly air. McCree walked around the back to meet up with Hanzo. Hanzo gave a smile at him, feeling that little jump in his chest again. 

“What’s the grin about, there, darlin’?” McCree said. 

Hanzo gave him a wide-eyed glance before remembering his Southernisms. With his face flushed entirely from the cold and nothing else, he replied, “It is just a strange feeling. I have not snuck out of any party since I was young, and Genji persuaded me to help him escape from a particularly boring event our family had.”

McCree chuckled. “Sounds like Genji. Not really like you, though! How’d he get you to bail like that?”

“I am not entirely as stuck-up as everyone makes me out to be, you know.”

“Got a little rebellious streak in ya, then?” McCree grinned, pushing up the brim of his hat a bit to peer at him. “Another thing we got in common, then.”

“Mm. So it seems. I will add it to the list.”

“Keepin’ a list, are you, sugar?” McCree shifted, leaning toward him, grin growing. 

“I--” Hanzo floundered, flustered by the look on his companion’s face. “I mean--”

McCree straightened, though the twinkle in his eye did not fade. He said something in Spanish. Hanzo frowned in confusion. In English, McCree said, “To town?”

Hanzo knew that was not what he had said, but nodded anyway. 

Walking side by side, they started walking to the center of town. Hanzo’s cold hands found his pockets. As they wandered past the first few shops, McCree looked back down at Hanzo. “Tell me more about what your childhood was like. Escaping boring parties with your brother, all your ninja training. If you wanna, anyway, I guess. I’m just… I’m curious.”

Hanzo hummed thoughtfully. “It was not really much more than the training, for me. Genji was an influence, for sure, but…”

“What about… well, y’all don’t celebrate Christmas, least as far as Genji’s told me.”

“Not in a religious sense, no, though it is perhaps the most widely celebrated holiday in the world. It is impossible not to be influenced by it. There was one year that we had a family from England visit for business and we tried to do a more western Christmas. Mostly for our cultural enrichment, or something.” Hanzo laughed at the memory. “Genji knocked over the tree and destroyed an entire shōji. And then our father ate too many cookies and got sick.”

“Sounds like that must’ve been pretty fun.”

Hanzo nodded. “It really was. At the time, I did not think so, but… no, that isn’t true. I pretended it wasn’t, but I think my parents could tell. When I saw the gifts under the tree that morning…”

“Magical feeling, ain’t it?” McCree’s smile was soft. “Nothin’ like it.”

“I think I understood you Americans a little better that day,” Hanzo said. “You tend to make things so much… bigger, brighter, louder than they are. And that is not a bad thing. It makes things more… exciting. Things that would otherwise be mundane and forgetful… there’s a talent many Americans have for making everything much more meaningful.”

“I… y’know, I think I kinda feel the opposite. We’re so busy, all the time… y’all know how to reign yourselves in and live in the moment. Find peace in the tensest of moments. At least,” McCree said, pulling out a cigar, “that’s what I’ve learned from you. How to feel the world around you in the moment, how to feel your heart beat with the world.”

Hanzo angled his head. “From me?”

McCree nodded and lit his cigar. He frowned a bit. “Sounds kinda creepy, now that I think about it. I ain’t… been, like, watchin’ you, exactly, just… observing? Ugh, no, that’s worse, never mind. Just like-- bein’ around you, pickin’ up on the way you interact with the world? It’s… you’re a really… interesting person. In a good way!”

Hanzo stared at him. “I… I’m not sure how to feel about that-- but thank you, nonetheless. I think.”

McCree laughed a bit nervously. “I mean it in a good way. I’m not really good with words, sorry.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. I can relate. Talking is… difficult.”

“Another for the list?”

Hanzo reached up one hand to smother a laugh.

“Oh! Hey, look, they got BOGO on drinks,” McCree said with sudden excitement, pointing to the cafe. “You want somethin’? Always had a soft spot for gingerbread, and they got them in latte form now.”

“Bo… oh, I see. Sure. I could do with a warm drink.”

McCree started for the door. As Hanzo stepped inside, he said, “I will pay. You keep holding doors for me.”

McCree flushed. “Would you believe me if I said it was just Southern instinct?”

Hanzo only smiled at him. 

The inside of the cafe was cheerfully decorated with garland and lights and chrysanthemums. The same radio station that they were listening to in the truck was playing here, too. Even the baristas seemed to be feeling the spirit, chatting in the lull between customers.

“Howdy! Happy holidays!” McCree greeted as he came inside. Hanzo hid another laugh as McCree took off his glasses to wipe the fog from them as he came into the warm building. 

“Happy holidays!” replied one of the baristas in accented English, straightening up. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

McCree headed to the counter with Hanzo at his heels. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take a medium gingerbread latte.”

“Gingerbread latte-- my personal favorite,” the barista said. She smiled at Hanzo. “Are you paying together?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I will have a medium soy peppermint mocha, please. No whipped cream.”

“Ah, dairy free?” the barista asked. 

Hanzo nodded.

She added it to the order and told them the cost. Hanzo paid before McCree could argue. 

“Names for the order?” she asked, holding a pen to a cup.

McCree and Hanzo shared a wide-eyed glance before McCree cleared his throat easily. “Joel,” he said for himself. “And--” he clearly panicked, but before Hanzo could cut in with a fake name, he said, “Azuki.”

Hanzo stared at him.

“Alright, I’ll call for you when they’re ready. Feel free to have a seat, if you like,” she said. “We aren’t terribly busy.”

“Threat of snow keepin’ folks home, I reckon,” McCree said.

The two found a table by the window, farthest from the baristas. 

“Azuki?” Hanzo hissed. “That isn’t a name, you know.”

“I-- yeah, I know, I panicked. That’s, I don’t remember--”

“It’s a bean. It’s a red bean, often used in desserts.” Hanzo shook his head, face warm. He’d basically been called “sweet bean” by McCree. Which was not unusual for all his affectionate pet names that he used for everyone, but it felt a bit more… something, being in his own tongue. What, Hanzo wasn’t sure, but it felt something. 

McCree pushed his glasses up sheepishly. “Sorry, Han.”

“There are worse names. It is just coffee.” Hanzo gave a little smile. “And festive enough for the season. Matches your sweater.”

And his face, Hanzo thought fondly, as McCree glanced down at his sweater. Hanzo chuckled, watching him. “McCree.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Uh, what for?”

“Getting me out of that party.” Hanzo shifted in his chair. “And… being so welcoming to me. I know you were close to Genji, so I am sure you know…”

McCree shook his head. “Genji trusts you. Cares about you. You care about him, too. You risked everything to join with us, and I respect that. And gettin’ to know you… you’re a man I can get along well with. Feel like I can… well, it’s gonna sound kinda cheesy, but I feel like I can be open with you. We got a lot in common.”

“A whole list of things, in fact,” Hanzo said. 

McCree chuckled. “A whole list.”

The barista called for their drinks. Hanzo went up to get them, thanked her, and returned to McCree. “Here, ‘Joel.’ Your drink.”

McCree took it with a small laugh. “Thank you kindly, darlin’, ‘preciate it.”

“Do you want to stay here? Or keep walking around?”

McCree took a sip and hummed. He glanced out the window, and suddenly sat upright with a bright smile. “Outside! Look!”

Hanzo turned and brightened. 

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped outside into the snow that had started to fall.

They stood in silence, blinking up, McCree holding his hat in one hand and his latte in the other, and Hanzo with both hands on his cup. The warmth of his drink was stark against the frozen flakes falling gently against his face. 

“Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

“Beautiful,” Hanzo agreed. 

McCree murmured something.

Hanzo looked at him. He was looking at Hanzo. “What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“No, you said… that wasn’t Spanish, that time.”

“Shit.”

Hanzo looked at the snow again. The colorful lights reflected off the flakes, casting them in tiny rainbows that clung to the sidewalk and nested on McCree’s hat. The music inside the cafe was just audible, muffled by the frosted glass. 

“You know… Jesse.”

He felt McCree watching him.

Hanzo took a slow sip of his coffee. It was pleasantly peppermint-y, rich in the chocolate, warm on his tongue. 

“As my brother demonstrated so eagerly at the party, I understand there are… traditions around this time of year. I do not see any mistletoe here. But I suspect there was another reason you invited me out besides simply pity for my introverted annoyance.”

McCree was as red as his sweater. “I-- no, not-- not really-- I mean--”

Hanzo smiled at him. “I would not be lying if I said I would not be opposed at all to the concept.”

“Hanzo…”

He felt his confidence, brought on by the rum and the giddiness of the season and the party escape, begin to falter. Hanzo looked down at his cup. A clump of snowflakes had landed on the lid and melted, leaving a tiny drop that reflected` a tiny rainbow from  the Christmas lights behind him. “I… I know I am not… well, a very good man. I have made many bad choices… my name comes soaked in blood. And… all of the… other baggage…”

“Hanzo. Hanzo, please don’t talk yourself outta this.”

He looked back up at him. 

“I got just as much garbage as you got, darlin’. Don’t you start using that as a reason to doubt yourself.” McCree turned to him and reached forward to take Hanzo’s hand in his. “We don’t gotta do anything you ain’t comfortable with. Slow as you want. But you’re right, I was hopin’ for… I don’t know, this. Not expecting it, though. I care about you. As coworker, friend… somethin’ else.”

Hanzo smiled softly. “It is not yet Christmas morning, yet…”

“Feels like magic.”

Hanzo squeezed his hand. “You Americans… making the world so bright and loud… making something special of nothing.”

“Is that all of us, or just me?”

“I can certainly say it applies to you, Jesse McCree. Now are we going to stand in the cold all day, or are we going to kiss?”

McCree couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he leaned down. His lips were cold and tasted of gingerbread and tobacco, and Hanzo felt a warmth glow in his chest, brighter than the rainbow lights and warmer than his coffee. 

And if, later, anyone asked them where they had gone during the party, either could only answer with a smile. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope everyone has a wonderful holiday! come drop by my tumblr @softbutchcowboy


End file.
